


Something Like Home

by Calmerion Anon (angrymermaids)



Series: Calmerion [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hand & Finger Kink, Sex Magic, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrymermaids/pseuds/Calmerion%20Anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brelyna Maryon meets the Dragonborn, she likes what she sees. She also sees that he's homesick for the Summerset Isles, so she starts researching a way to make him feel more comfortable in Winterhold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4295.html?thread=7473607#t7473607) on the Skyrim Kink Meme.

It had been two whole days since the fourth new apprentice had shown up at the College of Winterhold, and he hadn’t yet stopped shivering.  
  
This was excessive. Brelyna appreciated warmth as much as the next Dunmer, but sooner or later they all had to just get used to it if they were going to study here, at the very tip of the world, far from both sun and verdure. Besides, the College itself wasn’t cold. There were many founts of magicka to warm the halls and clear the mind. The Hall of Attainment was downright balmy, but still the cranky elf cocooned himself in blankets whenever he had the opportunity.  
  
“I don’t think I caught your name,” she said to him at lunch, but his teeth were chattering so much he could hardly answer.  
  
“C-C-Calmerion,” he said finally. He was swathed in several layers of wool right there at the table.  
  
“I’m Brelyna Maryon. You, uh… must be new to Skyrim.”  
  
He could only nod. He was being overdramatic, and that was never attractive, but Brelyna couldn’t deny that he was pretty. And not as pointy as some Altmer; there was a subtle roundness to his cheeks and chin that made him look youthful and friendly, despite the cloud of gloom over him.  
  
She turned back to her meal. No sooner had she picked up her bread and butter, however, than a mage burst in the door, shouting for everyone to hear.  
  
“Dragon! There’s a dragon attacking the college!” With that, he ran back outside, leaving alarm in his wake.  
  
Brelyna’s insides clenched in panic. Dragons? She’d heard the rumors, but for one to be here, in Winterhold—  
  
She looked over to where Calmerion had been sitting. In the time it had taken for the mage to spread the news, he’d disappeared, leaving empty blankets on the bench in his wake. Others were thundering down the stairs and toward the doors, hands glowing with fire, ice, and lightning, throwing on armor spells or hanging back with healing magic at the ready. Atronachs appeared in whiffs of void and brimstone. Most of the College’s occupants devoted themselves to research every waking hour of the day, but in this moment, they all showed their teeth.  
  
Brelyna joined them. She called up her own long-neglected combative spells as the mages flowed out into the courtyard to face the nightmare of legend.  
  
“Do you see it?” Onmund asked her, sounding worried. Sparks danced in his open hands as he scanned the cold, clear sky. A ragged shriek pierced the air and all eyes followed the dark shape that circled high above the towers that had, until recently, seemed so invincible.  
  
“I think that’s it,” Brelyna replied.  
  
Faralda headed the College mages with fire in one hand and lightning in the other. Glittering with diamond-hard spell-armor, she had put aside the indulgent teacher to become the Legion battlemage from years past. “Listen up!” she shouted, eyes snapping. “That dragon is no different than bandits, Forsworn, or Dominion filth, and we’ll take it down like we’d take down any of them! Lure it to the middle and keep it surrounded! Confuse it! Don’t let it get an angle to attack! Make every strike count!” With that, she sent a few experienced mages to the towers and started posting people around the courtyard to balance out skill levels and specialties. No one had ever killed a dragon, but they all trusted Faralda to keep them alive.  
  
The time was agonizing as everyone waited for the dragon to make a move. It roared in challenge. It wheeled down, wings closing in for a steep dive, ice spraying from its maw as it circled the perimeter of the College. The mages on the towers peppered it with their attacks. It hardly seemed to notice and swept back up into the sky, out of reach. Brelyna gripped her handfuls of frost, muscles tense, hoping that when the dragon landed it wouldn’t decide to eat her first.

It focused its wrath on the east tower. The mages of the west tower pummeled it with their attacks, and the beast swung around to see who dared challenge it. Those mages in the courtyard who had the range started throwing their own spells, sapping the dragon’s strength, gradually dragging it down to the ground. Brelyna didn’t have much power behind her attacks. Only when the monster crashed down into the courtyard could she join in.  
  
It was downed, but not defeated. With a lash of its tail, the dragon shattered Archmage Shalidor’s statue before snapping and darting at the mages surrounding it.  
  
Across the courtyard, someone shouted in a language Brelyna couldn’t recognize.  
  
A ripple of power almost knocked her over, but she stood her ground. The dragon recoiled against the full blast of… whatever it was. The mages followed up with elemental blasts from all sides while the beast roared in pain and confusion. A Dremora warrior—that must be the Archmage’s—let out a furious war-cry and hacked at its neck before being crushed in massive jaws and sent back where it came from. Brelyna focused her icicles on a spot under the dragon’s wing where a few scales had come loose. It flinched and swung its head around to snap at her—  
  
Three thunderclaps from the opposite side sent the dragon stumbling back. Whoever it was shouted again. This time, a wave of fire washed over the dragon and it crashed to the ground in a tangle of legs and wings and tail, roaring its indignation to the sky. Another barrage of lightning, and it collapsed, twitching mindlessly.  
  
Before Brelyna even realized it was dead, its skin started to ripple and flake like a sheet of parchment thrown flat onto a fire. It burned, flesh stripping away from massive bones, all the matter igniting into a rush of energy that surged into a tall figure standing opposite the fount in the middle of the courtyard.  
  
Calmerion. He stood as if bracing himself against a flood. It looked painful, all that energy forcing its way into his frail mortal frame.  
  
But when it was all over, he straightened up and simply walked away. He didn’t seem to be hurt. He didn’t even seem to be cold anymore. Several mages tried to stop him as he went, but many others who hadn’t seen the energy rush gathered to inspect the dragon’s skeleton and he managed to disappear in the press of curious bodies all milling about the creature. But Brelyna saw where he went and followed him, mild interest in the dead dragon overcome in her need to talk to him.  
  
He was walking toward the Midden of all places, as if he was eager to get back to some kind of forbidden experiment. He slipped down the trapdoor and closed it over him, but Brelyna quickly caught up and followed him down. He didn’t appear to be going anywhere in particular, just walking around in a rough circle in the chilly cavern. When he saw her approach, he turned to walk away, deeper into the darkness.  
  
“Wait!” She took hold of his sleeve and let go when he stopped walking. “What was that?”  
  
When he turned to face her, he looked tired, like he’d spent the morning carrying something heavy up a flight of stairs. “An ancient Nord legend,” he said. “I’m Dragonborn. I kill dragons and steal their power.”  
  
Just as she’d heard rumors of dragons, Brelyna had heard rumors of one who could defeat them. Somewhere far south, near Whiterun. It had all seemed so far away, far enough that she hadn’t even bothered to find a book about it, but now he was standing right in front of her and not looking happy about the legend or the dragons or any of it. “But… why? If it’s a Nord legend, why an elf?”  
  
He gave a humorless laugh. “I ask myself that every day. Why have the gods cursed me like this. Why am I in this frozen wasteland instead of the Summerset Isles. Why, why, why.”  
  
As if that suddenly reminded him of where he was, he shivered, hunched down a little, and headed back up to the surface without another word.

Brelyna liked to see the world in a positive light, even with all the bad things that happened every day. Calmerion, the more she got to know him, seemed like a reasonably pleasant person who was just homesick, so she began thinking of ways she could both cheer him up and improve her magic. And quite frankly, she wanted him between her legs, so with that goal in mind, she began searching through books and treatises for ideas.  
  
The one she settled on would be a very large project. And it was beyond her skills as they currently stood, but with practice, she was certain she could create what she imagined.  
  
Since the dragon attack, Nirya had begun following Calmerion around, doting on him, clinging to his arm and generally making a nuisance of herself. Brelyna was pleased to notice that he looked more annoyed than anything by her attention and was always finding excuses to disentangle himself from her grasp. Urag disliked Nirya, so Calmerion took to studying in the Arcanaeum with Brelyna in order to escape. Or rather, he took to sitting next to her while she studied.  
  
“Are you working on anything?” she asked as she jotted down notes about tropical flora.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Why come to the College if not to experiment?”  
  
“I’m not a scholar,” he said with a shrug. “I’m trained in offensive magic. Mostly Destruction. I came to learn more about it.”  
  
“There’s still plenty of scholarship behind it, you know. And I can’t think of a magical school that doesn’t encourage experimentation,” Brelyna said. “Where were you trained?”  
  
He seemed to tense up a little. “Uh, I was taught by family. Parents, aunts and uncles.”  
  
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” He acted like she would think him some kind of bumpkin because of it.  
  
“What are you working on?” he asked as if to take the focus off him.  
  
“Oh. Just theory. I’m researching the properties of some plants that grow in the far south. Everyone says Morrowind has weird plants and animals, but honestly, so does the rest of the world,” she said. Before she came to Skyrim, she never would have imagined some of the things that somehow managed to grow out of the cold, barren ground, much less out of the snow. And her home of Tel Ethimeryn was certainly distinctive, but so were the Nords’ ancient cities. Except Windhelm. Windhelm was a wretched place.  
  
“Are you going to plant a mushroom castle in Winterhold?” Calmerion asked with a grin.  
  
“I might, if I can figure out how to engineer them to resist the cold,” she answered in all sincerity, though she could tell he was joking. “There’s a nice spot to the west. It has a good view of the shrine to Azura and everything.”  
  
That was clearly not how he was expecting her to respond. Rather than saying anything else, he just sat back with his hands behind his head and watched her work. She turned a page to an illustration of something the book called a star-flower. They were native to the Summerset Isles, she read, and grew wild all over walls in the lowlands, creating the illusion that the buildings themselves were made of red-and-white flowers. He pointed to the picture.  
  
“We had those everywhere back home. The house where I grew up—you could hardly see it for all the flowers,” he said.  
  
“Really?” Brelyna made a note to herself. Include lots of star-flowers. “The house where I grew up was covered in… well, fungi.”  
  
“There is no place in Tamriel more beautiful than the Summerset Isles,” he said very seriously. “Not even Valenwood can hold a candle to it. It’s like the gods themselves put the islands on Nirn just to remind us of pre-mortality perfection. It’s that beautiful.”  
  
Brelyna raised her eyebrows. She had her work cut out for her, then.  
  
\-----  
  
Calmerion came and went from the College on a regular basis. Every time he returned, Brelyna’s project was a little further along, but still nowhere near done. And every time he left, she kept working and wished he would come back soon.

\-----

In hindsight, “can I test my spells on you” was definitely a red flag.  
  
Calmerion had first stumbled around for almost an hour, hoping everything would go back to its usual, non-green state before too long, and when that was all sorted, he’d come back for more abuse. Auriel only knew why. Maybe it was because Brelyna was so cute. But he knew he would regret this as soon as she stretched out her hand and enveloped him in light. He felt like he was… rippling. Changing.  
  
Her spell-light faded, and the rippling effect all over his body stilled.  
  
Everything was… wrong. His legs were in the wrong place. His weight was distributed strangely. His head was too close to the ground. He had… were those hooves? Was that him? When he tried to ask what she’d done to him, the only sound that came out of his throat was a panicked bellow, distressingly similar to the ones he’d heard around the Pelagia farm when a dragon swooped over Whiterun with a taste for juicy Skyrim beef.  
  
“Sorry! Sorry! Let me see if I can just—oh, Azura, I’m sorry!” Brelyna, her eyes widened in terror, kept casting spells over him, one after the other.  
  
His body didn’t know what shape it was. He kept changing—flapping, barking, switching between scales and fur and who knows what else, an assortment of squawks and chatters filling the Hall of Attainment as she tried to undo whatever she’d tried to do to him in the first place.  
  
Finally, the spells stopped, and he sprawled out on the floor of the Hall of the Elements, panting and checking himself all over with blessedly familiar hands to make sure everything was in the right place.  
  
“Oh, gods! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what went wrong!” Brelyna said, wringing her hands. She bent over him to see if he was back to normal, but Calmerion scrambled backwards.  
  
“You turned me into a cow!” he cried.  
  
“And about half a dozen others,” J’zargo supplied from an alcove. “No cats, though. Shame.”  
  
Brelyna looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have asked if I could practice on you. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m so sorry. I’m going to go… study some more…” With that, she fled, before Calmerion could even tell her there wasn’t any harm done. Because there wasn’t. As far as he could tell, he was an elf again, and there weren’t any side effects from the spell. Although, it was possible he would have to wait for a while to see if that was true.  
  
When he was sure everything had been set right, he stood up and made to follow her. He liked her, and she obviously liked him, and it would be just stupid if this were to cut short whatever might have come of it.  
  
He could hear her footsteps heading to the Arcanaeum. A door slammed in haste. He lengthened his stride and entered the library after her, but she was nowhere in sight. Hiding, probably. He looked to Urag for help, but the orc was repairing the binding on a large book and did not look like he was in a mood to be disturbed.   
  
“Brelyna,” Calmerion said.  
  
A hooded face, purple with embarrassment, appeared around a corner.  
  
“It’s all right,” he assured her, trying to sound soothing—something that did not come easy to him. He held up his hands. “See? No harm done. Sorry I shouted.”  
  
She nodded and withdrew. Calmerion sighed. They’d been getting along so well.  
  
\-----  
  
Brelyna did not let that setback get in the way. Once she had managed to force her mortification beneath the surface, she attacked her research with renewed zeal, strangely invigorated by her failure. When she first came to the College, she didn’t have the raw power to turn an elf into a cow, accidentally or otherwise—she was getting stronger. But she still had much to learn.  
  
Calmerion left Winterhold again at the end of the month. Probably to do important Dragonborn things. He didn’t return for a while, but Brelyna’s knowledge grew by leaps and bounds in the time that he was gone as she read, studied, practiced, and maybe sneaked a look at her teachers’ notes. Time and time again she failed, but with each failure came new insight.  
  
When he finally came back, her project was done. Or almost done. The only thing it still needed was for someone to appreciate it.

\-----

Winterhold, as cold and miserable as it was and as worrisome as the Eye of Magnus was becoming, was something of a haven for Calmerion. The College wasn’t political like everywhere else in Skyrim. Nothing was expected of him. He wasn’t born to some kind of destiny. He could forget about being Dragonborn, at least as much as it was possible to forget, and just be himself, whoever that was. Even if he wasn’t exactly a scholar like everyone else and even if there was a Thalmor agent prowling around the place, he liked it here.  
  
Brelyna was always happy to see him whenever he returned. And he was happy to see her.  
  
When she finally pulled him into an empty classroom and kissed him, it felt as natural as anything. She tasted savory and smoky. Her body was very warm under his hands and the way she touched him back felt confident—she knew very well what she was doing.  
  
Or she thought she did. She was obviously… experienced, but she didn’t really know him, and it made him uncomfortable. She had bought his lie about being taught by family members, when he’d actually trained at the Academy of Justice in Alinor. He felt bad about lying to her and even worse now that she clearly trusted him. There would be a price for trusting him too far, and it was a price he didn’t want anyone to have to pay.  
  
He broke off the kiss abruptly. “Brelyna,” he said.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Her ruby eyes searched his face for some explanation. He took a breath.  
  
“I like you a lot,” he began. “But there are people—not just in Skyrim, either. They want me dead and they’ll go through whoever to get to me. I can’t let that happen. I can’t… get involved.”  
  
“Because you’re Dragonborn.”  
  
“Yeah. And… a few other reasons.”  
  
Disappointment flashed briefly across her face. But then she gripped his hands with renewed determination and kissed him firmly on the lips. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark and her mouth rosy and then she ran her fingertips up and down his chest, up his neck to fondle his ears. In spite of everything, he sighed and felt himself melt under her touch.  
  
“Who said anything about getting involved,” she murmured against his cheek. “Make love with me. Don’t worry about the rest.”  
  
Calmerion felt himself nodding as he pulled her close and lost himself in the taste of her mouth. Just when he was about to suggest they find somewhere cozy to settle down, she stopped kissing him and rested her hands on his shoulders.  
  
“I want to show you something,” she said. “I’ve been working on a project. It’s a… place where we can be alone. It’s nice and warm, because you’re always saying how cold you are.”  
  
“Really?” He was quite touched, actually. The cold was getting easier to bear, but he still didn’t like it. He hadn’t expected her to have any sympathy for him, since everyone else just told him to get over it.  
  
“Yeah. It’s kind of a little rainforest grove. I was researching meta-spatial expansion, and I thought of you.”  
  
“I don’t know what that means, but I’d love to see it,” he said, and she smiled and kissed him again.  
  
“It’s on the roof,” she said. “This way.”  
  
Brelyna led him through the halls and corridors of the College, up the stairs of the Hall of Attainment, and out onto the tower, where the wind was blowing hard and cold and bitter. It was snowing again, almost a blizzard, but Brelyna didn’t seem to be deterred. There was a structure of some kind in the middle of the tower.  
  
“This is it,” she said over the wind. “My grove.”  
  
It wasn’t a grove. It was two branches bent into a tapered door shape, anchored to the stones beneath it with softly gleaming runes.   
  
“It’s very… uh…”  
  
“Not yet. This way.” Laughing, she took his hand and pulled him along after her, across the roof, and through the empty doorway.  
  
The wind’s howling ceased in an instant. Calmerion could hardly believe his eyes, and had to blink hard a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

He was home. Or rather, he was standing in a little piece of Alinor that felt so familiar he almost forgot he was actually in Winterhold. It was green. It was lush. All the plants—everything was as it should be, down to the bird calls echoing through the mossy trees, which were magically constructed, but sounded and felt no less real than if there were actually Summerset birds perched in the greenery. The ground under his feet—no longer snowy stone—was the kind of thick, dewy grass that blanketed the rolling hills and deep valleys he had explored as a boy.  
  
“You made this?” He looked around in awe, at the trees and vines and flowers that had been miserable, snowy wasteland just a moment ago. The air was humid and alive, heavy with heat and the flowers’ perfume. And it was real. A star-flower vine curled over his head. He reached up and felt its velvety petals and crisp leaves, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with homesickness so severe that he squeezed his eyes shut against something that was definitely not unshed tears.  
  
“Yes, all of it’s real,” Brelyna said with a smile. “It’s not very big, but it’s all real, and I made it.” She sounded proud. She should be.  
  
“It’s amazing,” Calmerion said. He meant it with every fiber of his being.  
  
“Best of all, no one can come in unless I bring them with me,” she replied, a touch of mischief entering her voice. “They’ll walk through the branches and end up on the other side. We have complete privacy in here.”  
  
He pressed his lips softly to hers. “Good. Then I can show you just how much this means to me.”  
  
Brelyna gave him a squeeze. She took his hand and led him through a veil of birds’ wing aster.  
  
In the center of the grove was a bowl-shaped clearing. Like she had said, it was rather small, but felt intimate rather than cramped. A canopy of rustling foliage enclosed the grove high above their heads. The whole place was lit with tiny balls of floating light that Brelyna explained were meant to emulate luminous insects, without the inconvenience of having actual insects flitting around. In the center of the clearing, a little pagoda grew out of twisting branches, sheltering an elegant bed draped in silk.  
  
“You really put a lot of planning into this,” Calmerion said. Brelyna smiled shyly.  
  
“Uh, well. I started thinking about the grove when you told me how much you missed your home. The bed came later.”  
  
“How long did it all take?”  
  
“A while. The research took more time than actually building it.If you’d said you were homesick for Morrowind, I probably could have whipped something up in an afternoon,” Brelyna said, her boast balanced out by the blush on her cheeks and the way she was caressing his hands. “Well, maybe not that fast.”  
  
He chuckled. “Now, where were we,” he murmured, cupping her face and bending down for another kiss. Energized by the warmth, it was deeper, more sensual, and when Brelyna’s hands started to fumble with the fastenings on his shirt, he couldn’t help her get rid of it fast enough.  
  
She made short work of his clothes and pushed him gently down onto the bed while she disrobed. He leaned back on his elbows, watching as she revealed more and more pearl-gray skin and let down her dark hair. Soon, looking comfortable in only the warm air, she joined him on the bed, sitting with her weight balanced on one arm and her legs curled beside her. Calmerion just looked at her for a moment, appreciating her exotic beauty for its own sake.  
  
The Dominion’s line was that the Dunmer were a debased, mannish sort of elf, barely worthy of the name. That was laughably untrue, unlike a few other old beliefs that Lydia and others were still hell-bent on prying out of him. (Talos: still not a god. No matter what that idiotic street preacher shouted at him whenever he walked by, he was certain of that much.) Brelyna was just as much an elf as he was. And… would it have really mattered if she wasn’t?  
  
No. It didn’t matter.

“How do you feel about using magic to make it better?” Brelyna asked.

“I’ve done it a few times, but I’m no expert,” Calmerion said. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Well, I was reading about mental projection, and I came across a spell to… expand your consciousness, I guess,” she said. “Watch me. ”

He did. Suddenly, gentle fingers brushed across his chest, completely real and solid, but her hands remained where they were, the left supporting her weight, the right resting on her leg. His eyebrows shot up and his skin prickled from the eerie sensation of feeling something that just wasn’t there. The spook lasted only a moment, though, replaced by a strong desire for her to do it again.

“That was you?” he asked. She nodded. “Can you feel it, too?”

“Yes, it’s just like moving my real hand. What does it feel like for you?”

“Like a hand,” he said with a shrug. “How is it done?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. You just… pour your power into your arm, and then move only the magicka, not anything else. Does that make sense?” Her invisible hand returned to his chest, running over his muscles before moving up to trace his collarbones.

“I think so.” He did as she said, taking a breath, focusing on the energy in his right arm. It took a few tries to get it right, to move only the power and not the flesh, but when he finally managed to project his consciousness into an invisible third arm, it was surprisingly easy to maintain. He reached out with his magic to caress her cheek. She grinned. “Not too hard, is it? I wonder if I can…” He tried the same technique on his mouth, projecting his lips away from his body and under Brelyna’s soft jawline. It worked, and with a thrill of victory, he watched from across the bed as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back under the sensation of his lips on her neck. He could taste her sweat and the lingering hint of incense.

He kissed her mouth as well. He felt two hands draw his face in close, and another two hands rub up and down his body, and another one trace the hollow of his spine all the way up. He shivered.

Brelyna guided him slowly down to lie on his back. She hovered over him, still kissing, still touching him with multiple hands. She made a little noise in her throat when Calmerion brought his knee up between her legs. He projected another hand, and then another one, and then two more—there was too much of her he wanted to touch, and only two real hands were insufficient. The most he could control at one time was eight, he discovered. Any more than that and he would forget how many there were and they would stop existing, if they really existed in the first place.

Fascinating. He had to give experimentation more credit.

“You want my pussy,” she purred. She was rubbing herself against his thigh, hot and wet, while her petite breasts quivered just out of reach of his mouth. “You want to fuck me.”

“Gods, yes.” Calmerion ran several sets of magic hands down her body, squeezing, caressing, pinching, massaging. With his real hands he gripped her upper thighs and took control of the rhythm, pressing her into the gentle flex of his leg, and he sighed when he felt invisible fingers curl around his cock. She was teasing him, though, because the hand lifted away after giving him a little squeeze. She grinned down at him, the ends of her hair tickling his chest.

“Use your hands?” she said. Gods, she had such a sexy voice. And face. And everything.

He slid his right hand down her stomach. She bit her lip in such an adorable way while he stroked her soft, trimmed hair, her parted lips, her swollen clit. With a questioning look, he rubbed her entrance with a fingertip, and when she nodded, he slid one finger in, massaging slowly.

“More?” he asked. In focusing, he’d forgotten about all the magic hands he was supposed to be controlling, and made up for the lapse by giving her body an extra-thorough going-over.

“Mm—just one for now,” she said. For all she was wet and relaxed, she was rather tight, and Calmerion made sure to be gentle as he moved his finger in and out, his other hand joining it to give her clit extra attention.

Brelyna rocked back and forth, guided by his own rhythm, rewarding him with all kinds of delicious sounds. He was almost painfully hard, watching her almost come apart with bliss, but he had never been one to cut a woman’s pleasure short to satisfy his own. It was much more rewarding to give her his undivided attention first. She held him captive with her eyes and the scent of her sex, occasionally running magic hands over his skin or leaning down to kiss him. And when she did come, it was with a high gasp and a little whimper and she eased herself through it, grinding against his fingers at her own pace.

Afterward, she rested with her head on his chest. He tucked her hair behind her ears and ran a magical hand absently up and down her back.

“I’ve always liked your hands,” Brelyna mumbled.

“Really? Why?” Suddenly curious, Calmerion looked at his right hand, front and back. Nothing unusual there. Five fingers, light golden skin, well-groomed fingernails. They were just his hands.

“You’re a Destruction mage,” she said, propping her chin up on her folded arms. “I’d imagine you had all kinds of scars and burns on your hands, like others do. But you don’t. They’re so… graceful. In a strong way. Dangerous. But gentle.” She grinned. “I like the way they feel.”

“Do you really.” And he liked feeling her as well. Her body was just too interesting—too much fun to touch. He could hold out a bit longer while he tried a few other things. “How many times do you usually come?” he asked.

“Once, most of the time. Sometimes twice.”

“Feeling up to it?”

Brelyna’s lips curved up in a way that was impossible not to kiss. “With you? Absolutely.”

She rolled off of him and spread her legs wide, knees slightly bent. He knelt between them and started touching her all over with as many hands as he could project. She put her arms behind her head and smiled up at him with a look that said she knew how hot she was making him. 

“I came up with a kind of low-intensity shock spell a while back for this,” Calmerion explained, still rubbing her up and down with all of his magic hands. She stretched and panted under the many-fingered touch, her face flushed a lovely violet, her own magic hands caressing him with increasing want. He held up one real hand and called the spell forth—just a shimmering crackle, no more than a few sparks that branched and formed a twisting, glittering glove. “It’s got a little buzz, but it’s harmless. Do you want me to use it on you?”

She held out a real hand to test it first, twining her fingers with his. “Oh, yes,” she said once she’d gotten a taste, smiling wide. “And you said you don’t experiment.”

“I don’t. I mean, unless they’re fun experiments.”

He stroked her with the spark-traced fingers of his right hand. Her thighs twitched and a throaty sigh let him know he was doing the right thing. He touched lightly, letting his magic do the work, letting her feel just how graceful his hands could be. Dangerous but gentle, she called them. He’d never thought of his hands in that way. It was kind of hot that she thought so, if he was being honest.

After a short while spent indulging the new sensation, she wanted two fingers, and Calmerion was happy to oblige. He pleasured her with both hands veiled in sparks, watching her face, feeling her heat, wanting her more and more with each sound she made. She was magnificent.

Her second orgasm was harder and more desperate than her first. She twisted and squealed, shaking, her toes curling, her body rippling with pure electric pleasure.

She was grinning and breathless afterward, gleaming with perspiration, and she snuggled against him when he moved up to her side again. He bit her salty shoulder just hard enough to feel her curl into him. “Do you still want that fuck?” he murmured. He nibbled her again, higher, almost to her neck.

“Uh. No. It’s too sensitive right now.” She wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead. “Maybe next time?”

“Next time. I like the sound of that.” He brushed a few strands of dark hair out of her face. She grinned and rolled over when she’d caught her breath, scooting down the bed and settling between his legs.

“Is this all right?” she asked. She held his cock with confident fingers. He could feel the gentle touch of her breath against his skin and the satisfied warmth of her hand.

“Yeah.” Calmerion put his head back. Brelyna squeezed and stroked and when she took him into her mouth, he buried his hands in her hair. She hummed and then did something decadent with her tongue when he touched her ears—a third hand returned to her hair and two more rubbed her shoulders while she sucked. Her own magic hands rubbed his stomach and thighs so thoroughly that it was a wonder she was able to give this kind of attention to his cock, but she was, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold on for very long.

This might be the greatest spell I’ve ever heard of.

She pushed him to the point of desperation. Magic fingers flexed and her nails grazed down his stomach—he was coming before he knew it, the release sheer bliss. As perfect as Brelyna’s grove. As perfect as Brelyna herself.

He could feel himself slipping off almost as soon as he’d gotten his bearings again. The air was deliciously warm. He was drained, mind and body. Brelyna was lying next to him. Her magic hands dissolved into nothingness one by one as she too reached the bottom of her reserves. She curled an arm around his waist. Her breath felt lazy and sated against his neck, and her hair soft where it tickled his shoulders.

“I can adjust the spell so you can come back here whenever you get cold,” she mumbled before kissing his ear.

“I might never leave.” He pulled her closer. “Is it very difficult?”

“No. I will need a bit of blood from you, though.”

He kissed her lips. “Hmm. Let’s not talk about that right now.”

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Very well. Let’s just… take a nap.”

He started to agree, but he was asleep before the words made their way out of his mouth.


End file.
